


Constricted

by new_mexicunt



Series: Wedding Crashers [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/new_mexicunt/pseuds/new_mexicunt
Summary: Jace and Izzy take Alec out for a bachelor party... of sorts.  Nobody's really in the mood to celebrate the night before Alec's marriage to Lydia.  Especially not Magnus, who shows up to Hunter's Moon already drunk and looking for a bit of a distraction from tomorrow's events."'Alexander,' he whispered, leaning up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Alec’s forehead. When he hovered back down he saw fresh tears well up in Alec’s eyes. 'You could not have broken my heart in a more beautiful manner, and for that, I am eternally grateful.'”
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Wedding Crashers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177298
Comments: 29
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Book Magnus doesn't have a belly button. He's also not as stupidly altruistic as TV show Magnus is. This is important for the story.

Alec played around with one of the place settings lying on their table at Hunter’s Moon. He was carefully constructing a napkin crane, though it was starting to resemble something more along the lines of a droopy, wrinkled airplane. Alec’s origami was shit to begin with, so he wasn’t surprised that trying to execute the skill on a napkin was any less of a let-down. He sighed, folding and unfolding one of the wings to try and make it stand up a little taller. Although, each time he added a new crease to the napkin, it made the whole contraption much more unstable. His solution to the problem was just making the problem worse. _How ironic._ he thought, idly folding the wing in on itself until it was tucked into the side of the bird. 

“Can you cut that out?” Jace cut in, coming back to the table with two beers in hand. “We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

Alec glanced up, placing the napkin crane back down on the table and reaching for his second beer that evening. Izzy looked across at him, still nursing her margarita that she’d ordered about an hour ago. As much as she wanted to get completely smashed and not think about the impending doom that her brother was impaling himself on, she also had morning patrol. A hungover shadowhunter was a dead shadowhunter when it came to fighting the demon hybrids that Valentine had been cooking up recently. 

Still, she wanted to at least try and pretend she wasn’t choking down tears every time she looked over at her brother. He deserved one last night of freedom. 

“Yah hermano, come on, lighten up! It’s _your_ bachelor party after all.” She smiled tightly, reaching out to give her brother’s hand an awkward little pat. She didn’t think her speech was fooling anyone. They were all dreading tomorrow. 

“You guys don’t have to do this.” Alec mumbled, looking down into his cup and fiddling with the side of the glass. 

“Mmm, neither do you.” Jace retorted, not unkindly. They all read the double meaning in his words. 

Alec’s eyes shot up to glare at Jace. They had been over this at least ten times. He wasn’t sure why his siblings kept pressing the issue. While he had not made it explicitly clear, they all knew he was doing this for them. What he didn’t understand was their near-hostile opposition to the marriage. They all knew that Alec could never take what he truly wanted, so why not lay down a path that at least allowed his siblings the luxury? Izzy could love as she pleased and Jace would be free from the responsibility of carrying on the Lightwood name. Additionally, they all got to keep the Institute. Izzy and Jace could continue to break every rule the Clave tried to instill, and Alec could watch their backs from the sidelines, filling out all the paperwork that he knew his siblings would purposefully avoid for the rest of their lives. Everything would be the same. They were just adding a new member to the club. 

Lydia wasn’t perfect, by any means, but she was kind. She and Alec both knew that he could never love her the way a man loves a woman; but, she could never have produced such love either. The situation wasn’t ideal, but it was mutually beneficial. And, it wasn’t uprooting anyone’s livelihoods. Alec had made peace with this life years ago. He knew the Clave would always stand between him and the romance that his siblings insisted on seeking out. He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t unhappy. 

Well, he wasn’t unhappy until recently. 

Alec was tempted to lie to himself by wishing he had never met the High Warlock of Brooklyn in the first place… but, he knew this could never be true. Magnus had provided him with a small window that looked out across a life of what he could have been and what he could have had. The feeling that he had glimpsed briefly through his parabatai bond welled up into his chest each time he got to see Magnus now. That first night they met was the first chink in Alec’s well-constructed armor and every interaction afterwards felt like Alec was tearing down the walls to a damn. Every look, every touch that Magnus sent Alec’s way was electricity, and Alec could hardly breathe when he was near the man. It was exhilarating. 

Alec finally knew what it felt like to be wanted, and to want someone back. It made his chest ache to think of the life Magnus was offering. A life that Alec could so easily fall into. 

A life that would absolutely destroy any chance of Izzy or Jace ever getting to taste it as well. 

“It’s non-negotiable.” Alec replied, cooly. 

Jace’s eyes softened a bit, and he held back from letting out the sharp retort on the tip of his tongue. He knew Alec would gladly take on a fight. It’s a lot easier to bicker about non-issues than to talk about the root of the problem. 

Jace had ulterior motives for this bachelor party. Yes, a part of him wanted to get Alec absolutely hammered so that, maybe, tomorrow didn’t feel as daunting as it actually was. But, another part of him, the brother in him, needed to make a last-ditch effort at dragging Alec out of this stupid mess. Jace knew what it was like to love fervently. He also knew what it was like to have that ripped away. He wasn’t going to let Alec rip out his own heart for a cause as stupid and unjust as the Clave. He wasn’t going to allow his brother be his own undoing. 

Not without a fight, anyways. 

“Alec, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I know how _very_ negotiable this actually is. I feel every conflicted emotion going through your stupid, selfless head. In case you’ve forgotten.” Jace finally replied, returning Alec’s glare with an understanding gaze. 

Jace felt Alec consciously retract from the bond, receding into himself. Jace was often asked what it felt like to have a parabatai. To him, it felt like cool streams of water flowing through his veins. Alec was a calming, strong presence. His essence nested itself in the center of Jace’s chest and spread through the rest of his body like an intricate, flowing web. Occasionally, it pulsed, almost like a heartbeat. These were the moments when Jace knew Alec was feeling particularly strong about something. The past few weeks, Jace had felt more jolts to his system from Alec’s emotional state than he had their entire childhood. 

Right now though, he felt the veins of their bond curling in on themselves, retracting back to the center of his chest. Alec was pushing his reactions down, drowning his feelings in something stale and dead. Jace hated the feeling. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alec said after a few seconds, staring Jace right in the eyes, daring him to reply. 

Jace was never one to turn down a challenge. 

“I know what you’re doing. For Izzy. For me. But, I know you’re hurting, Alec.” He reached out to pat Alec’s hand, like Izzy had done earlier, but Alec pulled his back from the table at the last second, placing it around the beer glass. He shot Jace a sharp look. Jace persisted. “I know how you feel when you’re with him.” Jace finished, pleading with his eyes as Alec’s breath faltered. He quickly glanced away from his parabatai and back down to his beer, swallowing thickly. 

“And how’s that?” Alec choked out, reaching to raise his glass to his lips and swallow down more of the bitter, bubbly liquid. Maybe he would get drunk tonight after all. 

At that moment, the front door of Hunter’s Moon slammed open and Alec nearly gagged on his beer. He was staring wide-eyed across the room, and Jace turned to follow his line of sight. His breath caught, and suddenly, the bond running through his veins was no longer the cool, steady water of Alec’s usual demeanor. It was kerosene, and Alec was lighting the match. Jace nearly choked on the sudden onslaught of emotions burning through his body when he saw who had walked through the front door.

“Like…” He rasped out, turning back towards Alec, “like that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I really need a beta reader. I feel like my characterization is all over the place. I'll pay you in love and affection. 
> 
> Also, I'm on twitter: @solid_quirks

Magnus was drunk. 

Scratch that. 

Magnus was _hammered_.

He couldn’t remember being this drunk since, well, he couldn’t really remember anything at the moment. 

_Good._ he thought. _It’s working._

He sauntered into Hunter’s Moon and headed straight for the bar, downing three shots of whatever he’d ordered (he couldn’t remember that either) immediately. 

“You’d better slow down.” Maia warned, eyeing the warlock wearily. “I’m gonna have to cap you before you even sit down.”

Magnus rolled his eyes, plopping down into one of the bar stools with an uncharacteristic clumsiness. 

“Alexander’s getting married tomorrow.” He deadpanned, handing one of his empty glasses back as an unspoken request. 

“Mmm,” Maia nodded, softening her expression and reaching out for the glass, “well, in that case.” She poured him three more shots. Magnus gave her a wry smile in gratitude. “Just don’t try portalling yourself home.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my dear.” He replied, downing another shot. 

“I could take you home.” Came a smooth offer from Magnus’s left. The warlock turned slightly to eye the black-haired seelie sitting next to him. Black hair, brown eyes (surely almost hazel in the proper, dark lighting); in his current state, the only thing distinguishing this fae from Magnus’s favorite, stoic shadowhunter was the pointed ears and the exceptional taste in clothes. Magnus could almost pretend not to notice these traits in his drunken haze. Maybe the seelie man would let him fuck him while wearing a holey sweater and a seraph blade holster. Then again, he’d probably have to explain his reasoning for the strange request and Magnus didn’t feel like unlocking that little door in his heart tonight. 

No, tonight, he planned on forgetting anything and everything to do with his tall, dark shadowhunter. 

_His_. Magnus snorted. He was still delusional; an indication that he was obviously not drunk enough. 

“Mmm,” Magnus purred, turning to face the seelie man completely, “you could.” Magnus stepped off the bar stool and leaned into the man’s personal space. The seelie, shocked at the forward agreement from the High Warlock, quickly recovered and turned his facial expression into something he hoped was somewhat seductive. He reached out with both hands, following Magnus’s blunt lead, and grabbed the warlock by his ass, pulling him in between his legs that were hanging off the edge of the stool. Magnus went willingly, already closing his eyes and imagining much stronger, larger hands pulling the move on him. Before he could move in any closer though, he felt said hands being yanked back with such a strong force that his drunk body nearly toppled over with them. 

However, before he tilted over completely, he felt a strong arm wrap around his waist and yank him back up onto a bar stool. 

Magnus’s thought process was stopped midway, when he found himself face-to-face with a much more familiar pair of hazel eyes. 

Hazel eyes that were currently glaring daggers at him. 

***

Alec watched as Magnus swayed towards the bar, having to use two chairs to support himself during the walk over. He was clearly well on his way past tipsy, headed straight for smashed at the rate the warlock seemed to be downing the shots that he ordered once he got Maia's attention. Despite the hazy, sloshed expression Magnus was wearing this evening, he was still breathtaking. 

Alec noted that, even in mourning, Magnus insisted on making a fashion statement. The man had on a tight, black tank top that cropped right above where his navel should be, followed by equally tight, low-riding jeans. He topped off the look with heeled combat boots and an assortment of necklaces (were those dog tags?) Alec thought the heels were a bit unnecessary, especially given the drunken state that the warlock seemed to plan on being in tonight. It was a sprained ankle waiting to happen. 

Alec’s hand was clenched firmly around the beer glass as he set it down, hard, on the table, never letting his eyes stray from Magnus. He watched as the warlock drank an ungodly amount of alcohol within the timespan of three minutes and then turn his attention to the (clearly interested) seelie sitting next to him. 

“Alec…” Izzy warned, eyeing the situation with caution while simultaneously keeping tabs on how tightly her brother was keeping a grip on the beer glass. She watched his knuckles whiten and the veins pop out of his wrists as the scene unfolded. Everything else about Alec’s demeanor appeared completely calm, which scared Izzy even more. 

The glass cracked as soon as Magnus let himself practically fall into the seelie’s arms; and when the man reached around to grope Magnus, Alec finally snapped. 

There was no time to react. By the time Jace and Izzy were registering what was happening, Alec was halfway across the room. They watched as he grabbed the seelie by the collar of his jacket and yanked him from Magnus’s body. Before Magnus could topple over on his stupidly tall platform heels, Alec whipped around and grabbed him by the waist, pulling him back up to sit on one of the bar stools. 

“Man, what the hell? Why didn’t you tell me you have a boyfriend!” The seelie seethed, patting his shirt down while taking long, backwards steps towards the front door. He was giving Alec a weary look, knowing full well that the nephilim was going easy on him. He’d been the star witness to the strength of the angelic warriors before, and he wasn’t about to take on the brunt of that strength for a (albeit, very pretty) warlock. He backed out of the door and then turned to walk, quickly, as far as he could from the vicinity of the building. 

“I don’t.” Magnus hiccupped, far after the chaos had died down. He was staring at Alec like he hung the moon. Alec didn’t know if he wanted to punch or kiss the star-struck look off the warlock’s face. Magnus seemed to be making the decision for him when he reached up to wrap his arms around Alec’s neck, pulling him down towards (what the warlock hoped) was his mouth. As he closed his eyes to lean in for the kiss, he felt those strong, large hands that he’d daydreamed about oh-so-many times reach up and shove him back against the edge of the bar. 

“Hey!” Maia warned, pointing an accusing finger at Alec, “quit picking fights with every downworlder in my bar, or I’ll have to kick you out.” She finished, glancing over at Magnus to make sure he hadn’t been injured. Magnus looked around, a tad dazed, before shaking his head a bit to clear out the fogginess. He then hardened his gaze, and glared up at Alec. 

“Oh, I see,” Magnus started, standing from the stool to use the height advantage that the boots graciously provided him over Alec, “ _you_ don’t want me, so nobody else is allowed to have me either.” His eyes flashed and he used a pulse of magic to push Alec back a step. “Well, news flash for you, Nephilim child, I can do whatever and _whoever_ I want.” Magnus seethed, punctuating his sentence by reaching out for a shot glass and shooting down another gulp of whiskey. He followed by slamming it down with an unnecessary amount of force atop the bar. 

Alec gave him a strained, painful look, but reached out to grab at Magnus’s elbow. 

“C’mon Magnus, you’re drunk. Let me walk you home.”

Magnus wretched his arm away from the shadowhunter’s hand, reeling back against the bar. He had to grab for the bar stool with both hands to steady himself. His eyes were cold, cloaking the pain that he knew Alec could read into like the back of his hand. 

He hated him for it. 

“Don’t touch me.” He rushed out, lifting one hand from the stool to stop Alec from getting any closer. “Don’t you touch me. You- you’ve made your bed.” He hiccupped, and then looked up from the stool to give Alec exactly what he was looking for: the all consuming pain that drove Magnus to the state he was currently in. It made Alec's heart constrict in a sick, aching manner. “Go lie in it.” He turned then, taking up the last of the three shot glasses, but before he could down it, he felt Alec’s cool, strong fingers wrap around his own, stopping the glass from reaching his lips. 

“Please.” Alec begged in a hushed whisper. There weren’t a lot of people left in the bar, but he wasn’t trying to make a spectacle of himself in front of the few who were. Not to mention Maia staring daggers at him from where she stood polishing silverware at the other end of the bar. “Please, Magnus, you’re not this cruel.” He finished, staring into Magnus’s bloodshot eyes. 

The warlock barked out a short, humorless laugh.

“Oh?” He drawled, obviously not caring who got to hear them air out their dirty laundry. “I’m not? And how would you know, Alexander?” Even in the given situation, Alec still shivered at the use of his full name falling from Magnus’s lips. “You don’t know,” hiccup, “ _anything_. You don’t know me at _all_. And now, you don’t get to know me.” He ripped his hand away from Alec and downed the last shot. 

“Magnus…” Alec was finding it increasingly difficult to hide the pain in his voice. 

“No. You listen to me you stupid Nephilim boy. I don’t care what you do tonight, but I,” he stated, dramatically pointing his thumb towards his own chest, “am going to drink until I pass out. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll go find a nice, young, mundane boy to _fuck_ me into oblivion, because these are the two things I know I’m good for. It really depends on whichever comes first. And _maybe_ that’ll be enough to help me forget about your silly, little wedding and your silly, little rules and the silly, little life we could have had together, hmm?” He ended his speech by magically refilling all of his shot glasses. However, his drunk magic made him overfill each one and the whiskey poured over the countertop. 

Maia scowled. 

Alec visibly flinched, but held his ground. While the words hurt more than he could bear, he could also see the raw, unfiltered pain in Magnus’s gaze and he ached to think that he was the cause of it. 

“Magnus,” he tried again, careful not to reach out for him this time. “It’s okay. I understand, okay? I understand, but I need to get you home. You’re…” he stopped, trying to think of a different adjective to use, so as not to offend the eight-hundred year old man, but not able to come up with anything else. “You’re pretty vulnerable right now, and I just need you to be safe.” He finished, placing his hand tentatively against the shot glass nearest Magnus’s hand and pushing it away from the older man’s reach. “Please.” he begged again, watching as Magnus clenched his hand into a tight fist. “Please, just... let me take you home.”

Magnus turned to him then, and Alec swore he could see those eight-hundred years of life staring back at him in the warlock’s eyes. However, before Alec had any time to react, Magnus dropped his gaze and slumped against the shadowhunter, letting the taller man support almost the entirety of his weight. 

“Fine.” he relented, extending his arm out as a peace offering. Alec took the hint and wrapped it around his own shoulders, ignoring the flutter that ran through his chest in reaction to the proximity of the warlock. He adjusted his grip so that one hand was wrapped around the forearm slung around his shoulder, and his other hand was tightening around Magnus’s waist. As he walked the warlock towards the front door, he turned his head to give Maia an apologetic smile, and then turned it the other way to mouth an “it’s okay” to his siblings, who had stood by watching the whole ordeal with wide, pitying eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, you're like: "Hey Cayman, Magnus is pretty OOC." I would argue that he really, really isn't. The man is eight-hundred years old; he knows how to nurse his own wounds. He's also very drunk, and very sad. I like to think that his armor definitely takes on the shape of bitterness, given his age and drunken state. 
> 
> I'll cap this off with some angst/fluff at Magnus's apartment. You can stop there, or you can wait around for me to write about Magnus getting kidnapped by Valentine and Alec having to go save him. It's a delightful little way for Alec to pull his head out of his ass. 
> 
> They might bang, idk. 
> 
> Your comments feed my soul. I reply to every one.


	3. The Thorn Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. And, dying, it rises above its own agony to outcarol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain… Or so says the legend.”
> 
> ― Colleen McCullough, The Thorn Birds

Once they got outside, Magnus turned to him and said, wryly: “You know, this isn’t exactly how I imagined the first time you’d be carrying me across a threshold.” 

Strictly speaking, Alec wasn’t carrying him, but he _was_ using most of his lower back muscles to heave the weight of the warlock through the streets of New York. While Magnus wasn’t particularly large, he was rather dense. Alec always wondered what the High Warlock of Brooklyn was hiding under all those layers. The tank top donned by the man this evening confirmed all of his suspicions (fantasies?): Magnus was sort-of ripped. 

“I’m sure you’ve been carried across plenty of thresholds.” Grunted Alec, shifting his weight so that he could hitch Magnus higher up against his hip. 

“Hmm,” Magnus murmured lazily, “you assume too much.”

Alec wasn’t sure what to do with that information, so he responded in the best way he knew how: with silence. 

They made it a few blocks before Magnus tapped his shoulder; a silent request to put him down. Alec lowered him down on the nearest bench and Magnus immediately began to unlace his shoes with drunken, slow fingers. He took so long on the first one that Alec finally sighed and kneeled down on the sidewalk, gingerly picking up the other boot and unlacing it with much more efficiency. He had the boot completely shucked off before Magnus had even gotten half the laces undone on his own. Alec reached over to finish the job. Their fingers brushed briefly before Magnus pulled both his hands back from his boot so that Alec had full access to the laces. Magnus opted to sit and watch him with an intensity that made Alec shift his weight uncomfortably. 

“I don’t understand why you insist on wearing this stuff.” Alec grumbled, pulling a particularly stubborn lace through one of the notches. “They’re a deathtrap waiting to happen.”

This got Magnus to break from his revere, and he leaned back against the support of the bench to wave his hand around in a dramatic gesture. 

“I’m making a statement.” 

“Oh yah? What statement? ‘I like to tease death every time I get dressed'?”

Magnus giggled while Alec removed the second boot from his foot, grabbing both of them by the cusps in one hand and Magnus’s hand with the other. He hoisted him up and wrapped the warlock’s arm back around his shoulder, happy to have the man’s warmth seeping into his side again. 

“Not all of us are gifted with the tall, Adonis physiques of a shadowhunter. Some of us have to try a little harder.” He replied, looking over at Alec fondly. Alec made a point of looking straight ahead, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling in his stomach that popped up every time Magnus gave him a compliment. 

“I think you’re fine like this Magnus.” He mumbled, pulling the man a bit closer so that he could get a better grip around his waist. Magnus closed his eyes, trying to imagine that the hold was there under much different circumstances; not because he was so drunk that he couldn’t walk straight. 

“Mmm,” he sighed into the side of Alec’s neck, “stop it, sweetheart, you’re making me swoon.” 

Alec’s breath hitched, but he didn’t look down. He knew Magnus was only saying these things because he was inebriated. He knew people had less control of the things they said when they were wasted… Not that that made this any easier. If anything, knowing that these were Magnus’s true thoughts only made this whole experience that much more painful. Even drunk, Magnus adored him. 

“You’re not swooning, Magnus, you’re drunk.” He wasn’t sure if he was saying this more for the warlock’s benefit, or his own.

Magnus giggled again. 

“Well, you know what they say: ‘Alcohol makes the heart grow fonde-’” 

“That’s not the saying. It’s absence.”

“Well,” Magnus hiccuped, “close enough.” There was a bitter tang to his reply. Alec refused to let his thoughts linger on the double meaning of Magnus’s statement. 

They walked in silence after that. Luckily, the loft was only about fifteen minutes away from the downworlder bar, so Magnus’s feet weren’t too cold by the time they got to his building. Alec knew the stairs were an impossible obstacle given Magnus’s state, so he half-dragged him over to the elevator. Once they got to the loft, Alec looked to Magnus to dig around for a key, but Magnus just grabbed the door handle and tugged it open. 

He smirked over at Alec. 

“You really think I’d choose a mundane key over my own wards?” 

“Better safe than sorry.” Alec grumbled, pushing through the doorway and placing Magnus down on the couch. He then walked over to set the boots under the coffee table. 

Magnus leaned back against the headrest, stretching his arms up above his head and then crossing them over his eyes. This made his shirt hike up most of his stomach and Alec had to will himself to look anywhere but at Magnus. He couldn’t tell if the warlock was doing this on purpose or not. 

“Go to my drink cart,” he started, arms still hiding his eyes, “over there near the window, if you remember. Bring me the little purple vial that’s sitting next to the red wine bottle.” He paused, finally moving his arms to laze out across the back of the couch and pulling his head up to look at Alec. “Please.” 

Alec shuffled over to the cart, found the vial easily enough, and then came back over to sit next to the warlock on the opposite end of the couch. Magnus, still (somehow) more bold than usual, was having none of it and pulled himself over so that his torso was facing the shadowhunter completely and his legs were brought up to lie across Alec’s lap. He topped it off by leaning his side against the couch and wrapping his arm around the back of the couch so that it was cradling the shadowhunter’s shoulders. 

Alec couldn’t hide the blush that was overtaking his cheeks this time. 

“You’re pretty handsy when you’re drunk.” He said, not unkindly, while handing over the glass vial. 

“No darling, this isn’t me being handsy. This is just my last-ditch effort to make you fall in love with me.” He said it so nonchalantly, like he hadn’t just punched all of the air out of Alec’s diaphragm. 

“Magnus-”

“Oh hush Alexander, don’t beat around the bush. You’re getting married tomorrow; the least you can do is afford me a little honesty.” He said, popping the cap off the little drink in his hand. Before he could down it, Alec’s strong, warm hand shot out to wrap around his wrist. 

“Don’t.” He said, softly. “Don’t Magnus, please. Just try to get some sleep.” He knew he had no right to care about the warlock, especially in such an intrusive manner, but after watching everything play out tonight, he hated to think that this wasn’t the end of it. He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t think he could handle being with a Magnus that laid all his pain out on the table for Alec to bear witness to. The depth of Magnus’s feelings were very overwhelming, and Alec found it difficult to breathe each time they were directed at him. 

Then again, isn’t that what he found so charming about the warlock in the first place? Unlike Alec, the man seemed to feel no shame. Every thought that popped into his head was deemed perfectly reasonable to come out of his mouth. Every feeling he had was worn stretched out on his sleeve. He had no qualms with his own emotions and let everyone know when they were the ones to incite them. Even drunk, he was so present. So in-tune with his own feelings. So _honest_ , both with himself and Alec. Even when the truth was physically painful. 

He was everything Alec wasn’t. 

Magnus snorted, dragging Alec from his own thoughts.

“This isn’t alcohol, dear heart, this is a sobering potion.”

Alec shook his head a bit in confusion.

“What…” 

“It’s a sobering potion.” Magnus repeated, unwinding Alec’s grip on his wrist with his free hand. “It’ll free my system of the effects of alcohol.” He smiled at Alec, dry amusement shining in his brown, glamoured eyes. “What? You thought I was going to waste my last night with you hammered?” He finished by propping his head back and downing the drink in one gulp. He shuddered a bit, but aside from that, Alec couldn’t really tell if the potion had worked or not. When Magnus brought his head back up, he closed his eyes and dropped his head down to rest against Alec’s shoulder, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. 

“Hey.” Alec spoke softly, bringing his hand up to brush some of the hair back from Magnus’s temple. “Magnus, are you okay?”

“It’s nothing.” Magnus mumbled. Alec could see little wisps of blue magic leaving Magnus’s fingertips and seemingly entering straight into Magnus’s forehead. “Just because I can sober myself up doesn’t mean I can avoid a hangover.” He laughed then opening his eyes to look up at Alec with a fond expression. “There,” he sighed, tilting his head a bit to get a deeper look at Alec’s reaction, “almost normal.”

“Almost?” Alec asked, a bit breathless. He was achingly aware of how present Magnus really was now. 

“Yah,” Magnus breathed, breaking their eye contact to shift closer and lay his head back down against Alec’s chest. Alec knew the man was sober now, but he should have known this wouldn’t stop Magnus from doing things that made his throat clog up in emotion. Magnus was Magnus, drunk or sober. Everything about him seemed to be strung together purposefully for Alec’s demise. Alec took the plunge and wrapped his arms around the warlock. Magnus was so artfully paving the way to his destruction, he may as well see where it was going to lead. At least for one night. 

Magnus said nothing as Alec pulled him in closer, resting his cheek against the warlock’s hair and breathing in the scent of sandalwood and something richer, deeper. More earthy. 

One of his hands clasped around the warlock’s waist, snaking across hot, exposed skin. The other was drawing idle patterns against Magnus’s bicep. They sat like that for a while, Magnus pretending that he finally had what he wanted and Alec trying not to think of anything further than a few seconds into the future. It was easy to think that this was everything he needed to be when he was in the warm cocoon of Magnus’s home. No responsibilities. No Valentine. No Clave. Just Magnus. 

Surprisingly, Magnus was the first to break the spell. He leaned up, unravelling himself from Alec’s hold and standing to head towards the kitchen.

“I’m getting drinks, would you like anything?” He turned back to Alec, laughing at the hard look the nephilim boy was giving him. “Oh darling, _tea_. I’m making tea. I’ve had my fair share of alcohol for the decade this evening.” He teased, turning back to head into the kitchen. Alec got up, shaking the warm feeling from his limbs, before following him into the next room. Magnus filled an electric kettle with water before turning to one of his cupboards, sifting around inside before he pulled out the canister that he seemed to be looking for. He poured some of the tea leaves into two separate, individual strainers before placing them each in their own mugs. Once Magnus was sure the water was well on its way to boiling, he turned back to face Alec, who was standing awkwardly on the other side of the kitchen island. 

“I’m sorry.” he said, snapping Alec’s eyes up from where they had been trained on the boiling kettle. “The things I said to you this evening…” he looked down, nervously picking his chipped nail polish. “They were… very uncalled for.”

Alec was at a loss for words. He thought he had already seen the warlock at his most vulnerable, but this… this was… unexpected. He didn’t know what to do with an unsure, _sober_ Magnus.

“It’s uhh,” he shuffled, scratching the back of his neck, awkwardly, with one hand, “it’s fine Magnus.” Because it _was_ fine. In fact, it made Alec feel a little relieved to know that Magnus experienced heartbreak like a normal person. He half expected the warlock to let the entire situation roll off his shoulders and come back the day after the wedding, to strengthen the wards or something, acting like nothing happened. There was a deep, terrible part of Alec that was happy Magnus felt anything at all from the whole ordeal. It meant he really cared about Alec, enough to lash out at him in such a vulnerable state. He felt sickeningly happy to know that Magnus held him in a tight enough space in his heart for their ending to hurt. 

Before he could dwell too long on his inevitable self hatred, he looked back up at Magnus to see the man watching him with a pitying look. The same look his siblings had repeatedly given him over the course of the past two weeks. Coming from Magnus, though, it didn’t incite the familiar need that Alec felt to defend himself. Instead, it made him feel open. Vulnerable. Like Magnus was reading every thought floating through Alec’s head, and every conflict he was battling within himself. 

“I’m scared, Magnus.” He admitted, rushing the sentence out before he could think about it too much. 

Magnus’s eyes softened, and he walked around the island, slowly, before coming to stand in front of Alec. He reached out with both hands, knowing that both of them had moved far past pretending that they didn’t want each other’s touch (at least for the night), and cupped Alec’s cheeks. He used one of his thumbs to swipe at the skin beneath Alec’s eye, while the other moved, slightly, to brush some of the man’s hair back behind his ear. 

“What are you scared of, my love?” Magnus spoke in a soft, understanding voice. 

Alec’s heart ached at the enderement, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from Magnus. He wanted to cry. Magnus looked at him, held him, like he was the most precious thing in the world. Like he was something to be cherished. Like Alec wasn’t stabbing him in the heart in the morning, and every day after that. 

_I’m scared of losing you._ He wanted to scream. _I’m scared of losing you before I’ve ever even had you. I’m scared that I’m making the biggest mistake of my life, but I don’t know how to get out of it. I’m scared for Izzy and Jace and Max and my parents. I’m scared that I’ll never make Lydia happy, and that Izzy will always resent me for what I’m doing for her. But, mostly, I’m scared that, after tomorrow, you’ll never look at me like this again. I’m scared to not mean anything to you because you mean everything to me.”_

“I-” The kettle went off, and they both took a subconscious step back. Magnus turned to check on the water, but by the time he turned back, Alec had closed himself off again. 

“I don’t know how to dance.” He rushed out. It was the first thing that popped into his head. Magnus raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Yah, I uhh-” He coughed, “I’ve never really danced before and, well, I guess the Branwells still want us to do the first dance thing… and it’s in front of all those people…” He trailed off nervously, breaking eye contact with Magnus to give himself a moment to collect his thoughts. 

Magnus decided it would be easier to play along than try to pull the original thought out from the deep recesses of Alec’s mind. 

“Okay…” He trailed off, bringing a hand up to rub his own jaw in contemplation. “And what type of dance is it, exactly?”

“Well,” Alec sighed, exasperated by his own stupidity and unwillingness to talk about his own feelings. Now he just felt like he was wasting Magnus’s time, as well as bringing up the unnecessary topic of _tomorrow_. “It’s, uhh, it’s not, like, explicitly any type of dance, per se. It’s more-so just, well, holding her close while still trying to move around with some kind-of rhythm. I’m worried that I’ll just stand there awkwardly, or try to move and just trip her over…” He finished, looking down at the tea cup that Magnus shoved into his hands. Magnus had gone to finnish putting their drinks together during Alec’s little speech. 

“Okay.” Magnus started, speaking with a slightly detached tone. Alec loathed that he brought something up painful enough to make Magnus put his armor back on. “Well, if that’s all, we’ve got something a little easier to work with. It sounds like you just need to get used to the feeling of moving with someone else so close to you.” He smiled, taking one of Alec’s hands. It made him blush again (of course). “I’m happy to help with _that_ , Alexander.” He raised both eyebrows, this time, daring Alec to decline. 

“What do you… oh!” Alec flushed an even darker shade of red. “No, Magnus, oh Angel, you don’t have to put yourself through that. I’m sure I’m pretty terrible.” 

“Well,” Magnus said, teasing now, “we won’t know until we try darling.” He reached for Alec’s cup, placing both of their drinks on the counter, before dragging Alec by his hand back to the living room. With a snap of his fingers, the couches were moved to one side of the room and the coffee table was pressed up against the back wall. 

“Magnus,” Alec started again, a bit uncomfortable, “really, you- you don’t have to do this…” 

“Nonsense!” He replied. Alec could hear the false enthusiasm. “Dancing is always a good time, especially if there are no rules. You’ll see,” he said, turning to Alec and reaching out another hand, “you just move with the music; the rest will fall into place.” He gave Alec an encouraging smile, making a small beckoning motion with his index finger. 

Alec took a deep breath, and then stepped forward, taking the older man’s hand as he moved. He wasn’t sure how to start, but Magnus didn’t seem to mind, pulling Alec’s hands down so that they wrapped around his waist. Then, he reached up to wrap his own arms around Alec’s neck. Alec was too tall for him to clasp his hands together, so instead, he let his hands play with the little hairs at the nape of his neck. He pretended not to feel the full-body shudder that coursed through Alec as soon as he began these tiny ministrations.

“Now what?” Alec asked bluntly. 

“Now,” Magnus replied, snapping his fingers to play music from his (stupidly expensive) stereo system, “we move, my dear.” 

And they did. 

It was slow, at first; and a bit awkward. Alec stepped on Magnus’s sock-covered feet a few times, but Magnus made sure to correct him. Eventually, Alec figured out that dancing around in a circle really wasn’t all that difficult and he was sure it would be even easier with Lydia. Not because he thought she’d be a better dancer; simply because he knew he wouldn’t have to focus so hard on breathing while in such close proximity with someone he was wildly attracted to. 

After a few songs, Magnus looked up at Alec with a coy smile and stated simply: “Well, it seems you’ve got the hang of it.” Then, instead of pulling away (like Alec had anticipated), he stepped up onto Alec’s steel-toed boots and rested his head against Alec’s chest. Alec’s steps faltered before he stopped moving entirely. 

“What are you doing?” He gasped out, trying to catch his breath under the sudden rush of affection overtaking his voice. 

“Letting you lead.” Magnus murmured into his neck. “Carry on.” He shuffled (somehow) closer, burying his hands in Alec’s hair and gently tugging the young man’s head down. Alec took the hint, turing his face a bit and tucking it into the crook of Magnus’s neck. Afterwards, he began to move again, dancing for the both of them. 

“How do you keep doing this?” Alec mumbled into his neck after a few minutes. 

“Mmm, doing what, Alexander?” Magnus murmured contentedly, twirling Alec’s hair between the tips of his fingers. 

“Falling in love.” Alec clarified, tightening his grip on the warlock. It was a good thing he did, because Magnus pulled back suddenly, taking the warmth of his breath and his fingers with him. Alec missed it already. 

He gave Alec a confused look. 

“Pardon?” He tried again. 

“It’s just-” Alec started, reaching a hand up to Magnus’s upper back in an act of bravery to pull him back into his embrace. Magnus went willingly. “You’ve lived so long, through so many years. How do you stand putting yourself through this over and over?” Alec finished, running his hand back down each ridge of Magnus’s spine. Magnus made a soft, muling sound that shot straight to Alec’s heart. 

“Well,” he started, shifting a bit on top of Alec’s boots, “the alternative is pretty bleak, don’t you think?” He asked, trying to steer the conversation from where he knew Alec was headed. 

“No.” Alec shook his head a little, “No, I don’t mean like that. I mean… how do you have that much room, you know? In your heart. How do you fall in love with someone and watch them grow old and die and come out of it feeling like you could do it all over again?” Alec finished, rushing out the last bit before he psyched himself out of asking the question. 

“Ah…” Magnus trailed off, giving himself a few more minutes to think. Finally, he pulled back again to rest his forehead against Alec’s, tilting his head a bit to give him a small, reassuring smile. He knew the intimacy must feel a tad overwhelming to the young man. “Think of it like owning a cat.” 

That was not the answer Alec was expecting. 

“What?” He reeled back from Magnus’s gaze, confusion written clearly across the young nephilim’s face. 

“Let me explain!” Magnus laughed, reaching around to pull Alec back down to eye-level. “You have a cat right? Church?” Alec nodded, still not quite catching on to Magnus’s analogy. “Okay,” Magnus continued, “and Church will live, what, ten? Twenty years, at most? If he lives a healthy, little cat life? And then what? Church dies, and the Institute never gets another cat? No, you’ll probably go through two, three, maybe even four cats in your lifetime.” Magnus paused, watching as Alec finally caught on. 

“So, falling in love with me is like owning a cat.” Alec didn’t seem to notice his slip-of-tongue, and Magnus wasn’t about to correct him. 

“Well, no. And yes. You love Church, right? You’re happy to see him when you come home? You feel loved when he comes over to sit in your lap? But, that doesn’t man you don’t have the capacity to love the next cat that comes along. It doesn’t mean that you never loved Church, nor will you forget the little things that make Church special, but this won’t stop you from loving your new cat just as much, right?” Magnus concluded, wondering if he was getting through to the nephilim boy at all. “And even though Church will die, and you _know_ he’ll die, this doesn’t stop you from loving him, does it?”

“No.” Alec sighed, tightening his hold around Magnus once more and breathing in his strong, sandalwood scent right behind his ear. “No but… why me?” Alec veered off slightly from the analogy, “There are seven billion… cats out in the world, Magnus… why this one?” He asked sadly, pulling back to look into Magnus’s eyes again. 

“Alexander…” he cooed, dropping what little guard he had left on his expression. “You’ve taken this analogie too far. You are not a cat, my love, you’re a human being.” He smiled, reaching up to brush Alec’s hair behind his ears once more. “I may get to choose my pets, but I don’t have much of a choice when it comes to the people I fall in love with. Surely, that is an experience that you yourself can relate to.” He added weekly. 

Alec’s throat clogged up, and he felt the tell tale signs of tears welling up beneath his eyes, but he persisted: 

“Why me?” He finally asked. He had asked himself this question so many times. He figured he deserved to hear the answer before cutting off the dream entirely. “Why… what is it about me, Magnus?”

“Oh Alec,” Magnus choked, holding back his own tsunami of emotions. “Why wouldn’t it be you?” He punctuated his question by cupping Alec’s face again, urging the young man to look him in the eyes as he spoke the next piece. “You, who are brave and strong and so incredibly _kind_. You, a man who is giving up a life of freedom so that his family may keep theirs. How could I _not_ have fallen for you the moment I met you?” Magnus’s voice broke a bit on the last part as he watched a tear finally break free of Alec’s stone-cold demeanor and roll down his cheek. 

“And while I can’t say I agree with what you’re doing tomorrow,” Magnus continued, wiping the tear away with his thumb, “that is not to say that I don’t understand why you’re doing it. I only wish-” but he couldn’t finish, as he finally let out a deep, throaty sob before being engulfed in Alec’s arms. Alec held him so close he thought he might suffocate, but then again, there were worse ways to go. 

“You only wish what?” Alec rasped out, petting Magnus’s hair in a soothing gesture, while the other held him tightly around the waist. 

“I only wish,” Magnus whispered, hiding his face in the crook of Alec’s neck, “that I had been enough to make you stay.” He knew it was selfish to say such things to this already broken boy, but he couldn’t help the small voice in the back of his head telling him that Alec deserved to know how much Magnus truly cared for him. How much he could have loved him. And how much he wanted to be loved by him. 

“Oh Magnus.” Alec finally broke, pulling back to look into the warlock’s eyes once more. “Magnus you-” he choked, willing himself to find the right words. “You are… you’re _more_ than enough. Angel, you-” he flushed, looking around the room like he thought he might find the answers hiding somewhere is the dark crevices of Magnus’s apartment. He turned back to the man, finally, and continued. “You… Magnus, being with you… falling in love with you- it’s so easy. Loving you would have been _so_ easy. God, I don’t even know how I’m gonna… or how I’m supposed to-” He shook his head, reaching with the back of one of his hands to wipe away the tears. “I don’t have any clue how I’m supposed to even _look_ at you after tomorrow without falling apart all over again, let alone work with you.” 

Magnus’s whole body froze up and the music that had been playing from the speakers stopped abruptly. Alec stopped moving, trying to gauge Magnus’s dramatic reaction. Before he could begin to ask what was wrong, Magnus finally broke the silence. 

“Alec,” he visibly flinched at the use of his shortened name coming from the warlock’s lips, “did you honestly believe that I’d be able to work with you after this?”

For the second time that night, all of the air left Alec immediately. He felt as though his entire body had been dumped with ice-water. 

“I’m sorry?” He gasped out, searching Magnus’s impassive, tear-stained face for an answer he knew he wouldn’t find. 

“Did you really think,” he started again, slowly this time, “ that I’d stand around on the sidelines and watch you build a life with a woman I can’t help but loathe?” His words weren’t unkind, but they felt like daggers stabbing into Alec’s chest with each word Magnus spoke. “Alexander, I said I understand your decision, and I do, but I’m not going to suffer the consequences of your actions. I will not stand by and watch you kiss and hug and raise a family with someone else.”

“What are you- what are you saying?” Alec heard himself ask, taking a step back and reaching out a hand to grab onto the mantle of the fireplace for support. 

“What I’m saying,” Magnus said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before opening them again to look at Alec while he finished his statement, “is that we can’t be this,” he waved an arm lazily between them, “after tomorrow.”

“No that’s not-” Alec’s head was spinning, “I would never ask you to-”

“I know.” Magnus’s facade faltered, and his affection slipped through into his expression once more. “Alexander, I know that you would never do that to your wife. And I know that you would never ask that of me. You are far too kind to even consider something like that. What I’m saying, my darling, is that, after tonight, I can’t see you. At all.” Magnus pushed through the final few words, reaching out to cup Alec’s cheeks once more. “Do you really want that for me? For us? The constant reminder of what we can’t have? The aching feeling that we’re together the completely wrong way? You don’t think you’d grow bitter from never getting to touch me? Or that my heart wouldn’t absolutely shatter looking at your first-born child that I know isn’t mine?”

Neither of them spoke after that. They both just stood together, allowing their breathing to settle until both men were simply leaning against one-another. Alec was leaning back so that his back was supported by the mantle, while Magnus was leaning forward. They supported each other by clinging to one-another’s forearms and their foreheads were pressed together. Both of their eyes were closed, and Alec was focusing hard on trying to match his breathing with Magnus’s. It was a small gesture, but soothing, nonetheless. 

“I never wanted this for you.” Alec finally spoke, breaking the silence for the both of them. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt _anyone_.” He rasped out, thumbing little circles into Magnus’s forearm. 

“I know, my darling.” Magnus sighed, opening his eyes to let the shadowhunter see every bit of understanding he held for the man. “Like I said, it was a lost cause the moment I met you.” When Alec tried to turn his head and avert his gaze, Magnus stopped him, reaching out to cup his chin with one hand and pulling his face back to look into his eyes. “Alexander,” he whispered, leaning up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Alec’s forehead. When he hovered back down he saw fresh tears well up in Alec’s eyes. “You could not have broken my heart in a more beautiful manner, and for that, I am eternally grateful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I hate me too.
> 
> I left it here so that you can read my sequel or pretend that the wedding is the next day (and we all know that's a happy ending, right??)
> 
> Also, side note: possessives for ending-in-"s" names are still 's. So a possessive Magnus is "Magnus's"... I had to double check this like 12 times because it looks so wrong.


End file.
